


It's Always Been You

by opalescentdaydream



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: F/M, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, gender neutral reader, lmao maybe but for now this is a g rated romance, someday i might write something a little more pg 13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 13:01:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30123141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalescentdaydream/pseuds/opalescentdaydream
Summary: another prompt blurb from tumblr!
Relationships: Jesse Pinkman/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	It's Always Been You

The whole neighborhood thinks Jesse dropped an ATM machine on some addict’s head. They don’t know about the wife, or the son, or that Jesse hears the sound when his eyes close. Sometimes, a car screeches at the end of the block. He hears it then, too. They don’t know that Jesse feels like a kid wearing his father’s suit, hoping no one notices. A little boy in a grown man’s clothes - dancing like a puppet when Mr. White pulls the right strings. They don’t know any of it, but you do.

You’re sitting around one night, passing Jesse’s bong back and forth. Skinny Pete, Badger, and Combo are dealing; otherwise they’d be crowded into Jesse’s bedroom and hogging the pipe. You don’t mind the quiet. But, the longer you sit, the more Jesse talks.

“I don’t even want to ‘expand’ and shit,” he says. He glowers into his lap. He looks so small in his empty room, and smaller still sitting back against the blank white wall. “Like, we’re doing fine. We’re making mad bank, and Mr. White’s still not...satisfied, or somethin’.”

You shrug and toy with his lighter. You swipe your thumb and watch the fire ignite, dissipate. Ignite, dissipate. “Doesn’t he need it for his cancer? Maybe he got more medical bills.”

Jesse shakes his head. “Nah. That’s not how it works, right? He didn’t have, like, surgery. It’s just the chemo. And we’re making plenty for chemo.”

Jesse’s sneaker finds your foot. He nudges it, and you look up. He leans his head into his shoulder and stares back into you. His eyes are half-lidded and a sleepy, chill blue. If it weren’t for the hard set of his jaw, he would look almost peaceful. Jesse asks, “Am I stupid for letting him move the guys around?”

“You mean to those other street corners? No,” you say. Jesse feels you hesitate. “But… I think he should listen to you more.”

Jesse scoffs. “Yeah, no kidding.”

There’s a pause where you both let the cicadas do the talking for you. If you stay like this, they’ll chirp on your behalf all night. Now, though, alone and real with Jesse, feels like the moment you’ve been holding out for. You move the bong out of your path and crawl to Jesse’s side. You stare at a fixed point across the room - a toothy gap in the baseboard that you’re pretty sure houses mice. You can’t look at him when you say this.

“You know, dude, Mr. White may be a chemistry genius or whatever, but he’s not the only one. Like, if you want a genius, it’s you.”

Jesse huffs. “You’re out of your mind, man. I don’t know shit.”

You double down, your tone firm. “It’s like, you’re so much smarter than you think you are. And you let Mr. White push you around because you think you’re stupid. But you’re _not_. You’re the smart one.”

You hope you’re making sense. The words are getting jumbled in your big empty head, and you know you’ve definitely had better versions of this speech; of course you have, you think it to yourself, like, once a day.

You feel Jesse watching you. You risk a glance. He’s so much closer than you expected. You can see the root of his stubble. With anyone else, you’d worry he thought you were making fun of him. With Jesse, you know he hears how much you mean this. 

Now, turning to face him, your noses nearly bumping into one another, your voice wanes. “I mean, that’s...it’s always been you.”

His breath is hot against your cheek. It smells like Takis, and you wish you could offer him some gum. You know you can’t be much better off. 

Tentatively, Jesse rests a hand on your knee. You lay yours overtop. You’re shoulder to shoulder.

“You’re not bad yourself,” Jesse says. It comes out whispered and scared. He clears his throat.

“Nah. You and only you,” you smile, halfheartedly. 


End file.
